Part 11 (1/2)
”I'll walk back. Be glad of the exercise.”
”It must be five kilometres.”
”Right.”
He turned away and began walking. After a minute, he heard Kath's car hum into life, then roll past him. She continued to the road's end, then sped up, and was gone from sight.
Just trying to help.
Maybe. Or maybe she was a vulnerable woman looking for a vulnerable man to connect with, which made sense only if the c.u.mberland marriage was over, which half of him couldn't accept while the other half took it as read.
Both halves felt awful.
He was in his own car when a call came through. The image was of Haresh Riley, known to everyone in the Regiment as Raghead Mick and seeming not to mind. Josh pressed to accept.
”Did Tony tell you to call me?”
”Tony who?”
”s.h.i.+t.”
”Oh yeah, Tony s.h.i.+t. He did ring, come to think of it. Said you were a miserable f.u.c.ker who wasn't going to see his mates unless they called him first.”
Josh had no idea what to say.
”So the RV is the Bunch of Grapes, seventeen hundred precisely. Be there, or we'll have your nuts.”
”You'll eat all the peanuts in the pub?”
”See? You're better already. Out.”
The phone blanked out.
”Tony, Tony, Tony.”
Silly b.a.s.t.a.r.d, trying to be helpful. And then there was Kath Gleason, and her Maybe you need someone to look Maybe you need someone to look after you. after you. They were wrong, all of them; for the person who needed help was Sophie, but no one was doing anything, achieving anything, while she was trapped in a h.e.l.l whose entranceway read Persistent Vegetative State, the abandonment of hope, a sentence no one seemed capable of commuting. They were wrong, all of them; for the person who needed help was Sophie, but no one was doing anything, achieving anything, while she was trapped in a h.e.l.l whose entranceway read Persistent Vegetative State, the abandonment of hope, a sentence no one seemed capable of commuting.
Bad, bad, bad.
At 5pm on a Sat.u.r.day, the Bunch of Grapes was packed. By the bar, a huge wallscreen was showing the opening credits of Knife Edge Knife Edge, the thirteenth season. Regulars were seated at small round tables, on the bench seats near the walls, and at the counter, beer in hand, their attention on the screen. At the back, five quiet men were gathered around a table.
You're here. Thanks, lads.He was on time, because if you agree to a rendezvous you keep it. With a gla.s.s-tipping signal to Haresh, he established that they had drinks already, and there was a drink waiting for him. It would be Diet c.o.ke, and he could trust them not to spike it without telling him. Threading his way among the crowd, he checked the environment harmless, cheerful, and noisy and the five guys: Haresh, Kev, Vinnie, and Del, plus a wideshouldered man he didn't know.
Haresh pointed: ”Josh c.u.mberland, Matt Klugmann. Now drink.”
”Hey,” said Josh.
”Likewise.” Matt's accent was American Southwest. He raised his beer. ”Bottoms up, old chap.”
”Jesus, don't let these b.u.g.g.e.rs teach you how we speak.”
”You mean, they might be less than truthful? Heaven forfend.”
”Hey,” said someone nearby. ”Who are these f.u.c.kers?”
On the wallscreen, the picture changed to a news report. Two overweight men in suits were sitting at the bar counter, and one of them had the screen's remote in hand. It didn't take ma.s.sive awareness to notice the tensing body language around the room, or the scowls as Knife Edge Knife Edge was replaced by pictures of President Brand failing to return Premier Han Lei's bow at the Geneva Conference. was replaced by pictures of President Brand failing to return Premier Han Lei's bow at the Geneva Conference.
”a.s.shole,” muttered Matt.
”The guy who changed the picture?” asked Del. ”Or your duly elected president?”
”Either one.” Matt stared toward the screen, and a muscle at the side of his mouth jumped. ”There.”
The image changed back to Knife Edge. Knife Edge.”Er, we like to be more discreet,” said Haresh. ”Ghosts in the night, remember?”
”s.h.i.+t, have I got cowflap on my boots again?”
”When don't you, good buddy?” said Del. To Josh: ”Epsilon Force, been here four months, poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
The barman took the remote from the guy in the suit, shook it as though to demonstrate that it was broken, then put it below the counter. He made no attempt to change the image back.
”So who'd you p.i.s.s off,” asked Josh, ”to end up among this lot?”
”Truth to tell, I can't rightly remember, there bein' so many.”
”See?” said Del. ”Fits right in.”
”Too bad it's not a compliment,” said Josh. ”What have you been?”
”Hush,” said Haresh. ”They're going back to the House after training. Should be interesting.”
Everyone was looking at the screen, besides the businessmen finis.h.i.+ng off their drinks, looking ready to leave.
”Why interesting?” asked Josh.
”s.h.i.+t,” said Del. ”You missed the previous episode?”
”Well, yeah.”
More important things to worry about.
”Two of the lightweights, Andre and Lynwood, had a little contretemps.”